Slightly Skewed
by TwinEnigma
Summary: AU. A madwoman's interference changes the course of events in book 1, or had they changed even earlier than that? Slytherin! Harry. New Chapter, chock full of Snape.
1. Prologue That which Sleeps Within

Slightly Skewed

By TwinEnigma

(a.k.a. RaistlinofMetallica)

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AN: Hey, everyone! This is RaistlinofMetallica here and my new alter ego, TwinEnigma! Now, about a year ago, I started Slightly Skewed and I had only small plans regarding it. Didn't think I get too far with it at all. and then my muses organized and came up with four more years worth of Skewed Universe for me to write! Seeing as how large this whole thing was going to get, I decided I'd give it a new home with my new alter ego, TwinEnigma, and edit/fix up some of the earlier chapters. So, without further ado, the NEW and IMPROVED **Slightly Skewed**! (Year one)

_Blanket disclaimer_: Anything you recognize, except for my OCs and the plot, I don't own. I do this for fun and absolutely no profit.

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Prologue: 

That Which Sleeps Within

It was supposed to be a routine blessing. The child wasn't supposed to be anything special, no more than the other children that were being blessed on that night. There weren't supposed to be any surprises or interruptions. But nothing... _nothing_ could have prepared him for what was to happen on Halloween.

_"Who calls for me?" he asked._

_The trembling woman folded her hands before her and bowed her head, her thick, dark red locks falling over her eyes. "I did, great one."_

He was summoned, barely two hours before the blessing hour was to start. This was highly unusual; most of his followers were silent on the holy days of magic and they only called to him in supplication when they desired the success of their newly created spells. But it was not one of his followers who had summoned him, no. This woman was more likely a follower of his distant Welsh aunt, but she was most definitely not one of his. She was too pure in her heart to be one of his.

_"And why would you, a child of Cerridwen, even deign to call upon me?" he wondered aloud, tracing the line of her chin._

_The woman shivered and drew away from his touch. "I wouldn't have if there had been any other way."_

_"I see, you seek something then that my brethren of light and shadow cannot provide," he smiled, drawing back. "So, what is it that you want from me?"_

_She licked her lips nervously and slowly raised her eyes to his. "I want you to save my son's life."_

_"And why should I do that?" he asked. "What is one child's life to me?"_

_The woman was both terrified and angry; he could see that temper warring with her logic. "Have you no mercy, no compassion?"_

_"Magic is my only concern, little witch," he countered. "And you forget that I am a god of darkness."_

Oh, yes, that he was. And being the youngest of all the gods of magic in heaven, he was always the last to go on the blessing night, too. He would know, sometimes, on those Halloweens long past which of the children would come to him. It was in their eyes, already deep inside their souls.

But his duty was to the magic and its future, as always.

_"Of course, there may be a way," he added, a dark grin on his lips. "I am in need of a voice in this world."_

_She did not seem to comprehend what he had just said._

Magic on this world had been riding the razor's edge of destruction since the great Influenza pandemic. At the time, he and his elder brethren convened and decided upon a course of action to once again stabilize the magical world. It was a risky plan, calling for direct involvement in mortal affairs, but it was the only way that they could guide the mortals to change the outcome. His cousins had already taken on the guise of humans: his elder cousin had started his work during the Second World War, while his other cousin hadn't started until 1960 - a mere twenty-one years ago. Isis and Hecate had both left not too long ago and that had left only him, waiting to play his part.

_"Tell me what it is that threatens the life of your son," he said, turning to examine the baby boy. "He seems in good health."_

_The woman chewed on her lower lip a little before answering. "Voldemort wants him dead. I knew that he wanted to kill James and I, but why our son, too? What did he ever do to him?"_

_"Voldemort does not like to leave loose ends," he stated rather matter-of-factly. "And he has other reasons."_

_She sighed heavily. "Will you save him? Will you save my son?"_

_"Yes," he replied, staring down at the child, "By making him my voice."_

_The woman looked at him in confusion once more. "I'm not sure I quite understand. Do you mean a prophet or something?"_

_"No, not quite," he said, drawing close to the baby. He trailed a finger over the boy's forehead and noticed that the child's eyes were fixed on him. "I mean to make him a part of me."_

_Her face lost all colour. "What -? You can't!"_

_"I assure you that it is the only way," he countered. "There is no spell that can counter the killing curse. Were you on another world, there would be spells that could defend and protect against curses such as this, but you are not. On this world, it takes a great sacrifice of love to deflect something so terrible from its course and, even then, there is no guarantee of success."_

That was all true. On other worlds, there were spells that could defend against and even reverse the effects of instant death curses. The only catch was that these were often clerical in nature and the people of this world had long forgotten the old ways. He was one of the few who had retained followers, though his were always few in number and extremely secretive about their allegiance to him. As with his cousins, he had no clerics, for their worshippers were exclusively witches and wizards. The other gods were patient, though, and they merely waited to be rediscovered.

_"I cannot be harmed by those curses, young one," he continued, rising to stare into her eyes. "You will die tonight, of that there is no question. However, your son can be saved."_

_Her lip trembled and her eyes began to tear. "You spoke of a sacrifice of love. What does that entail?"_

_"You must be absolutely willing to die for someone that you love, but - as I said before - there is no guarantee." He drew closer to her. "One doubt in your heart and all is lost. That is all it takes to fail."_

_The woman began to weep openly now._

_"If you so desire," he began, his lips curling into a smile, "I will remove all of the doubt from your heart, so that you may sacrifice yourself for him without fail. I ask only one thing in return."_

_She sniffled, forcing the semblance of composure. "What do you want?"_

_"A voice," he answered, truthfully. "That is my only condition."_

There were forms he could have taken, but his cousins and brethren had all nearly been identified by mortals at some point and he had figured it to be too much risk. No, a new form was needed - one that would never have its apparent humanity even remotely questioned. Assimilating a new form from an already existing human child was the easiest route, especially if said child was about to become an orphan in a mere matter of hours. So, he had bided his time until an ideal opportunity presented itself and his patience had been rewarded most suitably.

_The woman looked at him with saddened eyes, as though she had accepted her inevitable defeat, and sighed heavily. "I really have no choice, do I?"_

_"No, you do not," he said matter-of-factly._

_She sniffed, trying to hold back tears, but still one escaped. It gleamed as it rolled down her cheek. "Then, so be it. I accept the terms."_

He had stripped her heart bare of any doubt and fear. Only love remained there, pure and gleaming as her soul.

_"You know, I will not let your death go unpunished," he said, staring into her eyes once more. "I'll direct the course of the deflected spell back to Voldemort. He will not escape it. It will be my first act as your son."_

_She stared at him oddly. "Why would you kill him? Doesn't he follow you?"_

_"I have my reasons," he replied. "And, no, he is not one of my followers. My followers are sworn not to participate in the genocide of magic-users."_

There were many reasons for him to kill the arrogant, self-named Lord Voldemort. The most poignant was the murder of muggleborns, which drastically effected the continued survival of the wizarding world. It was also an insult to the very foundations of wizarding society. They knew he would not stop and could not be reasoned with. That was classically Slytherin stubbornness taking precedence again. Then there was the consideration that if Voldemort did achieve his goal of complete domination over the planet, all heavenly simulations pointed to the fact that the planet would either wither and die or end up looking like there had been a global nuclear holocaust. None of the gods were too keen on either of those outcomes.

Of course, there had been a time when he had invested a keen interest in Tom Marvolo Riddle, but that was some years ago. The child had resembled him a little - rather a nice compliment for a mortal, really - and he was still honouring the terms of his arrangement with Salazar concerning the protection of his heirs, so it was only natural that he took an interest in the boy. Sadly, little Tom had a great number of emotional troubles and abandonment issues that eventually fed into the creation of a second personality which embodied all his negative emotions: Voldemort. Coupled with how heavily the child was leaning into magic for support, it came as no surprise that it eventually swallowed the child up whole, leaving the other personality in complete control.

That was all in the past, however, and he considered any obligation towards protecting that heir completely null and void. After all, there were newer heirs to consider first and foremost. Tom hadn't been a complete waste of time in that respect. That troubled man had taken on several failed romances before his other personality gained total control, and a few had yielded offspring. Unfortunately, Voldemort was just about to unwittingly murder his firstborn son and his daughter-in-law. Doubly unfortunate for him was the fact that his son had married a woman with a brain and considerable courage enough to make a deal with one of the gods of dark magic for the life of her son.

_The woman's eyes flitted from him to her son. "Are you going to... you know..." she trailed off, not knowing how to phrase what she wanted to ask._

_"Not right now," he replied, casting a glance at the baby. "At __midnight__, that's when it will all happen."_

_She nodded and, raised her eyes again. "Forgive me if I sound rude, but... You see, I was wondering... What do you look like under the cowl?"_

_"Very well," he sighed, reaching up and pulling back the velvet hood._

His appearance had already begun to adapt at that point, in anticipation of what he was going to do.

_The woman could barely contain a shocked gasp. "Is this how my son will look as a young man?"_

_"It seems so," he replied. "Now, I hope I do not sound rude, but I ask only one more thing before I leave."_

_She looked up at him with a puzzled expression, as though to ask him what more he could ask of her._

_"You'll have to forgive me for this little indulgence," he cautioned, smiling broadly. "Could I... call you mum, seeing as I will be your son and all...?"_

_A strange, confused half-smile crossed her face and she shook her head at him. "And what should I call you, my future son and lord of dark magic?"_

_"Sarcasm doesn't become you, mum," he countered good-naturedly._

_She flicked her hair over her shoulder and managed to glare at him sternly with a surprising lack of effort. "Is that so?"_

_"Nuitari," he said. "My name is Nuitari."_

_The woman smiled and, cautiously, moved to embrace him in a hug. "Thank you, Nuitari" she whispered. "Thank you for giving me hope."_

He lingered in the room after that, but not visibly, remaining close to the window as he waited for the blessing hour. The remaining time went by quickly and, soon enough, he could see Voldemort apparating onto the front lawn and starting for the house. Normally, he measured time in centuries, but on this particular occasion every second counted. The clock struck midnight as the front door was blasted off its hinges and the blessings began, starting with the eldest of the gods of magic. James shouted from downstairs, his duel with his soon-to-be-murderer laying waste to much of the contents of the ground floor.

They were halfway through the blessings when there came a sharp cry and he knew that James was dead. The stairs creaked ominously as Voldemort ascended to the second floor, but the redheaded woman did not show any hint of doubt as to what she was going to do. Three-quarters of the assembled gods of magic had given their blessing by the time the door to the room was blasted open. The woman pleaded, stalling her murderer for a few moments before he killed her.

Nuitari could taste the effect of her sacrifice in the air, wrapping around the wailing baby like a protective blanket and, now, it was finally his turn. Bowing his head, the youngest of the gods of magic placed his hand on the baby's head and whispered the words to accept the child as his voice. All at once, he was pulled apart and into the small boy's form, the outraged cries of his brethren barely on the edge of his hearing.

Voldemort turned slowly, his eyes narrowed in annoyance at the corpse of the young red-headed woman. "Stupid mudblood, I told you to stand aside."

The baby blinked his wide eyes blearily, hiccupping a moment, having only ceased crying a moment earlier.

"And now," the murderous wizard grinned, "You get to join your meddlesome parents in heaven. No hard feelings, little one, but you have to die."

The baby boy looked directly at him, a twisted, almost feral smile on its lips. It was disturbing and seemed highly out of place.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_ Voldemort snapped, aiming his wand directly at the child's forehead. The green light leapt from his wand with the sound of a thunderclap, speeding towards the unsuspecting baby.

The next thing he knew, his vision was engulfed in green light and his body felt as though it was being torn to pieces. He screamed in agony as he was ripped from his disintegrating body, his wand dropping and skittering across the floor to rest under the crib. The house began to crumble, cracks splitting the walls and ceiling. With a cry of rage and anguish, Voldemort fled the house, never looking back.

But as he took flight from Godric's Hollow, he could have almost sworn that he heard someone laughing.

It almost sounded like a child.

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AN2: I hope you enjoyed. The first two or four chapters are next on my list of fixing up, so they should be up soon. Oh, and Cerridwen is a goddess of magic. I've also started a group for Harry in Slytherin stories and their writers. You can find it at Yahoo Groups. The name is 'Skewedworld'. Or you can use the link in my bio. Please Review! 


	2. A Timely Intervention

Slightly Skewed

By TwinEnigma

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Chapter 1: 

A Timely Intervention

Harry was currently having the best birthday of his entire life. Firstly, he had found out that he was a wizard - a fact that he had quickly come to accept with little questioning. It seemed to explain a lot of funny things that had happened during his life, such as the time that he had been running from his cousin and his friends and suddenly found that he was on the roof of the school or the time that he had somehow grown his hair back overnight. Secondly, he had discovered that he wouldn't have to go to Stonewall High after all. He'd be going to Hogwarts, apparently one of the finest schools for witchcraft and wizardry in the world! He'd also discovered that his parents had left him what appeared to be a small fortune in Gringotts, the wizarding bank, and he didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life.

And Harry hadn't the slightest clue where to run first now that he had a bag full of money.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding towards _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hullo," said the boy, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms."

A strange buzzing filled Harry's ears and he winced, his hand instinctively going to his head. The blonde boy was still talking, though his voice seemed muffled and distant. Harry had the strangest feeling that something was coming closer, but what it could be was beyond him. Then, quite suddenly, everything was back to normal.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Harry asked, looking back at the boy.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy repeated, giving him a slightly odd look.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, the buzzing in his head starting to return again. He was also curious about these houses, whatever they were.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there," the boy began.

Thinking quickly, Harry cut the other boy off and instantly the buzzing seemed to vanish. "Do you have any friends going to Hogwarts?"

"Not really. They're more of acquaintances, really. Their parents are friends of Father's and, naturally, I'm expected to make friends with them," the boy trailed off, looking thoroughly annoyed with the whole idea. "And you?"

"No," Harry replied, looking out towards the front window. "I only really know Hagrid. He brought me here."

"Why? Shouldn't your parents -?" the boy started, looking quite puzzled.

"They're dead," Harry said, shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other. "But they..."

The pale boy was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a rather odd-looking woman. She seemed a bit touched: her clothes were slightly mismatched and she had a scarf tied around her head. Her long brown hair was gathered into pigtails, tied in several places with red and gold ribbons. Strangely, Harry found her face somehow familiar, as though he had seen her somewhere before, long ago.

"There's the smell of one who has seen an Unforgivable in here," the woman said, her eyes wide and gleaming.

Madam Malkin stood, giving the woman a pitied glance. "How can I help you, Luna?" she asked, patiently.

The strange woman smiled vaguely, touching her fingers to her forehead. "My scar's aching and that can only mean one thing: there's one who got hit in this room. It called to me and I followed it here, to where cloth falls in rivers."

"Madam, I'll be getting Mr. Malfoy's robes wrapped up if you need any help with, well, Loony Luna," the second witch sighed, helping the pale blonde boy out of the robes. She then swished off into the back room.

The woman, Loony Luna, giggled childishly. "Still calls me mad, does she? Well, cru-see-ah-tus does do a doosie!" She giggled again and practically bounced towards a rack of shiny satin robes, her eyes growing wide with glee.

"That poor woman," the pale boy said, giving her a nervous look. "She's mad."

Madam Malkin snorted and helped Harry out of the robe. "She's a victim of You-Know-Who. Don't pay her any mind, boys. She doesn't really know what she's saying. I'll be right back." With that, the squat witch retreated into the back room.

Loony Luna spun around, a conspiratorial look in her mad amber eyes. "Is she gone yet, lads?"

"Yes," Harry replied automatically and almost instantly realized that he probably should not have said anything at all.

The madwoman grinned widely and walked over to the two boys. "Thinks I'm mad, she does. She an' everyone else," she told them, crinkling her nose in distaste.

She gave Harry a good look and then lightly, gently, pushed up the fringe of hair covering his scar. "A thunder-child, lucky lightning! You've been touched by the Vol de Mort, the flight of death!" she exclaimed, tracing her finger down the jagged scar.

"You..." the pale boy breathed, his eyes going wide in awe and surprise.

But Loony Luna had the advantage and smiled happily. "Oh, yes! We must expect great things of a blessed thunder-child. Marked as he is, not truly, but justly blooded."

Harry didn't quite know what to make of that confusing statement, so he nodded simply. Again, she struck him as somewhat familiar, but he could not think of where he might have seen her before.

She winked at him before turning and giving the pale boy a good looking over. The woman tapped her chin thoughtfully and then her wild eyes lit up. "The son of the Morning Star who fell, I recognize you. Your father had his downfall due to bad faith. Oh, but you're such an interesting little dragon, you are. Yes, a dragon with moon-coloured eyes."

The boy flinched nervously under the madwoman's gaze and Harry fervently wished that Madam Malkin would hurry back.

Loony Luna giggled and poked the pale boy on the forehead. "Pretty dragon... such a nice dragon... Nobilis Draco... Mal... foi?" she trailed off, raising her eyebrows in a curious expression.

"How did you know my..." the pale boy began, looking - if at all possible - paler than before.

The madwoman suddenly swept out the door and disappeared into the crowd of shoppers, just mere moments before Madam Malkin and her assistant returned.

"That girl!" the assistant harrumphed, handing a tightly bound parcel to the pale blonde boy. "She ought to be in St. Mungo's."

Madam Malkin sighed heavily as she handed Harry his parcel. "No one is quite sure why St. Mungo's released her, but, frankly, she's quite harmless and she at least seems to have some common sense."

The assistant clearly seemed to disagree with this opinion.

"You boys are both all set," the squat witch told them, giving them a friendly smile.

Harry nodded and quietly left the store, the pale boy following behind him.

As soon as they were outside, the pale boy dashed in front of him and held out his hand in greeting. "I'm Draco," he said, "Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter," said Harry, shaking the other boy's hand firmly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Draco smiled and then cast a nervous glance around the alley. "That woman gave me the creeps."

"Yeah, me too," Harry agreed, shivering slightly. Her seeming familiarity troubled him a bit, along with the odd feeling that he should speak with her at length about something; he had no idea what that something was, but he had the strangest sensation that it was important. He shook away the strange thoughts and, unable to find Hagrid in the crowded alley, turned back to his new acquaintance. "You wouldn't happen to know your way around here, would you?"

The blonde boy gave him a very curious look. "You've never been here before? That's odd. I would have supposed your guardians would have brought you here at least once before."

"I don't, though. I mean, I only just found out that I'm a wizard last night," Harry admitted. "I don't think my aunt and uncle were too pleased about that."

Draco stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was," said Harry, truthfully.

And, without really meaning to, Harry began to tell him all about his terrible life with the awful Dursleys.

As he talked, the blonde boy's eyes got wider and wider in disbelief until, finally, Draco could not contain himself any longer. "They made you sleep in a _cupboard_?" he managed.

Harry nodded.

Draco's face darkened considerably. "How dare they!" he spat. "That's illegal, I'm sure of it!"

"Well, I don't..." Harry began, not wanting to cause a scene.

But the blonde boy didn't seem to hear him at all and started marching up the street, Harry firmly in tow.

"Don't worry," Draco said, "My mother will know what to do, you'll see. Sleeping in a cupboard, by Merlin...! Of all the insulting and vile things..."

"I really shouldn't wander too far," Harry protested mildly as he was led away from Madam Malkin's. He didn't want to worry Hagrid into thinking he'd gotten lost, after all.

Draco stopped shortly and Harry very nearly collided with him. He was about to ask why they had stopped, when he realized that they had almost ran headlong into someone.

She was a tall, slim woman with blonde hair and would have been very pretty had she not been giving Draco such a piercing glare. She had not seemed to notice Harry quite yet, so he chose to remain quiet and not attract her attention.

"Draco, I thought I told you to wait for us at Madam Malkin's," the woman said sternly. "You know very well that it's dangerous to go off by yourself! Why, who knows what could have happened to you! Your father would have a fit if..."

The blonde boy gave Harry a look that plainly announced this lecture as something he'd received all too often.

"You are in a lot of trouble, young man," the woman, obviously Draco's mother, finished crossly.

Draco merely smiled and tugged Harry closer. "Mother," he said, smiling sweetly, "I'd like you to meet my new friend, Harry."

The blonde woman blinked, as though momentarily unbalanced. Her eyes flitted to Harry's forehead and then back to her son, a curious look growing in their depths.

"Hello," Harry said, extending his hand to her. "I'm Harry... Harry Potter."

Slowly, Draco's mother smiled and gently clasped his hand. "Delighted to meet you, young master Potter. I am Narcissa. I can see that you've met my son already," at this, her smile turned mischievous. "I should probably warn you: my son seems to have a penchant for getting into trouble."

Draco looked indignant and mildly annoyed with his mother.

"I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, giving the blonde boy an apologetic look. He had known the other boy for all of ten minutes and he was beginning to get a sense that the blonde boy was a bit on the impulsive side.

"Of course," Narcissa said, smiling a little to herself. "My, you do have the look of your father about you, Harry. Lily's eyes, though."

The blonde boy looked bewildered, silently mouthing the words '_who's Lily?'_

"Did you know my parents?" Harry managed, surprised. Lily, was that his mother's name? It sounded beautiful.

Narcissa nodded, pursing her lips a moment. "I was well acquainted with your mother in Hogwarts. And your father, as well - though I must say I did not know him quite as well as I did your mother. He was a brilliant Quidditch player, your father. He played chaser and I believe he was also the reserve seeker, but I don't recall that he ever was called to fill in for that position."

Draco, still seeming a bit confused, piped up, "Mother, weren't you not supposed to talk to Gryffindors?"

"That is a story for another day, darling," she said, patiently. "But, yes, there were ways to get around the borders between houses."

This answer seemed to satisfy the blonde boy and he appeared to be much less confused.

Harry, however, still had no idea what these houses were.

Seeing his confusion, Draco quickly whispered, "I'll explain later."

"Where are your guardians, Harry?" Narcissa asked absently, scanning the crowd. "I'm sure they're looking for you by now."

The blonde boy forced a half-smile and started, "Um, about that, mother... We need to talk."

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AN: Fixed minor error. New chapter is almost done and should be up soon. (holds up Sirius, his brother and cousins and puts on best fake announcer voice) And now, you too can collect the whole set! Sanity optional. Batteries not included. Houses may vary by fanfic. (bursts into laughter and goes off to go finish up the last edits to the next chapter) 


	3. Of Snakes and Wands

Slightly Skewed

By TwinEnigma

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Chapter 2: 

Of Snakes and Wands

Narcissa examined the Potter boy carefully as she listened to him tell his story. She was rather adept at reading other people – one had to be when one came from a predominately Slytherin family like the Blacks – and now she put this skill to good use. Little things like eye movement and posture could tell her if there was any truth in his story. And if this boy was telling her the truth, the decision she would be faced with could possibly affect not only her family but their future as well.

The Potter child kept his eyes downcast and his head low while he talked. He was embarrassed or ashamed, each word cautiously and quietly spoken. She noticed that he was very careful to be respectful and didn't openly say that he was unhappy, instead carefully choosing the words to convey his lamentable situation. His oversized, worn clothing and sloppily mended glasses only lent further credence to his tale. Someone else might have missed it, but not Narcissa. No, she knew how to read the signs and it was easy to tell that the Potter boy wasn't lying.

She had known his father – well, knew who he was, at any rate. James Potter was the only heir to a long and distinguished pureblood line, rumoured to trace back to either Godric Gryffindor or Bowman Wright, depending on whom one happened to ask. The Potter family was among the wealthier and more influential of the neutral pureblood families, but rarely chose to exercise any of their power. Narcissa also recalled that James Potter had never been politically inclined in school, choosing instead to raise as much hell as humanly possible; he had only chosen to side with Dumbledore after his parents passed away and, by that time, he was in his last years at Hogwarts. James had been an arrogant and proud young man, with a fiery temper and a propensity for causing trouble or being at the heart of it. In contrast, Harry's temperament was something of a mystery at current and whether or not he shared these qualities with his father remained to be seen.

When he finished speaking, young Potter raised his eyes to search her face. He was looking for a response, most likely doubt or mockery, but she knew to keep her face neutral and clear of anything that might alarm or anger him. Such a clever boy, she mused. He was definitely more of an intellectual par for her son than either the Crabbe boy or the Goyle boy could ever be. And there was no question about the potential strength of the young Potter's magic: she could practically see its brilliance reflected in his eyes.

"I'm going to need a minute to think, boys," Narcissa said, finally. "Draco, where's your father? Is he still looking for your books?"

Her son shrugged, smiling mischievously. "There was a rather long line, last I checked..."

"I see," she sighed. This would give her some more time to think. Of course, it would be much easier to think of a proper plan with these two preoccupied. "Harry, Draco... why don't you two go and find Hagrid? Have him take you to the Magical Menagerie and I'll meet you at Ollivanders."

The Potter child nodded slowly, seeming somewhat relieved.

Draco grinned at him and whispered to his new friend, "See? I told you she'd know what to do."

"Run along, you two," Narcissa insisted, shooing them away. "And Draco..."

Her son paused mid-stride and she could swear she almost heard him rolling his eyes. "Yes, mum?"

"Mind your manners," she told him and then watched as the two boys hastened off. In one ear and out the other, she mused before turning her thoughts back to the problem at hand.

Of course, she knew she couldn't allow the Potter child to be left with those deplorable muggles he had for guardians. It was clear that he was unhappy and the mention of a cupboard under the stairs serving as a bedroom until recently truly unnerved her. For a wizarding child with that sort of natural talent to be treated so poorly by those ignorant muggles... Well, it simply affronted every one of her pure-blooded sensibilities! And, while the prospect of taking the boy in was infeasible, having him in their debt could be very advantageous down the road.

The _real_ trouble would be in convincing her husband, Lucius, to get involved. She would have to use every ounce of wit and cunning she possessed to convince her husband that taking action on the behalf of the Potter child would be beneficial enough to outweigh the risks. But she was a Black woman and she had her own special brand of cunning. She knew how her husband's mind worked and what words would catch his attention. If she played her hand right, Lucius would even believe it was his own idea to help.

A strategy already in mind, Narcissa started off for Flourish and Blotts, humming a strange little tune from her youth.

* * *

The two boys hadn't far to go before they spotted Hagrid – which really wasn't quite that difficult to do, as the man towered over most everyone present in Diagon Alley. Thankfully, it seemed that the giant of a man had not yet noticed that Harry was no longer in Madam Malkin's, as he was fussing over the easily recognizable madwoman from earlier. She was hopping about in front of him and stretching her arms, chattering on about dragons and hippogriffs. It almost looked like she was distracting Hagrid on purpose – _almost_. Harry doubted she knew they were there and even if she did, he highly doubted that she had enough of a mind left to care whether or not he might get in trouble for wandering off anyway. 

"Round the twist, that one," Draco muttered half to himself, and then added, "We'd better hurry before she scarpers off again."

Harry nodded absently, his feet already briskly carrying him towards the shop that he was supposed to be waiting in. He didn't particularly feel like going back inside and one look from his partner in crime and he knew that Draco would rather go anywhere else than back inside. That left them to stand in front of the window and wait to be noticed.

"...And I probably should'a told Bumblebee, but there's lots and _lots_ more uses than he found, yes," the woman said, nodding sagely. "But there's rules to follow, y' know, and I promised I'd never tell, that I did."

Hagrid patted his beard a moment and lowered his head a little. "So, yeh think an owl is best then, right?"

"Oh, most indubitably, Keeper of Keys," Luna said, rocking back and forth on her feet. "Though, a writing desk might be useful, too."

That statement was just as bewildering to the two boys as it obviously was to poor Hagrid. "Aw, Hogwarts has plenty 'a those, Luna. I wouldn't worry too much 'bout tha'..."

"But I want to give him a newsie," she whined, sounding much more like a small child than a grown woman. "It's been ever so long... and he could use one. Maybe a nice doggie? I'd call it Norbert or maybe Mr. Snuffles... Ooh, and he'd be big as a bear and black as black can be! And all grim and gruff and playful as a kitten inside!"

Hagrid looked a little sheepish. "Well, I dunno... students aren't supposed teh bring dogs... Might even be a bit of a problem with Fluffy there-"

"_I_ think it'll be splendiferous!" Luna beamed and spun in place. She then stopped stock-still, and stared straight at the two boys. "Ah, there they are: Lucky Lightning and the Silver Dragon! Such clever children – very polite. I like them ever so much."

The giant man followed her gaze and broke into an apologetic grin. "Harry! There yeh are! I was jus' about to come an' get yeh there... Anyway, this is Miss Rouge – used to be a friend of yer mum's some years back."

"We've sort of met," Harry said. "Inside, I mean. She came in while we were getting our robes fitted."

Hagrid nodded, seeming to understand that it hadn't been what one might call any sort of normal conversation. Then, his beetle black eyes landed on Draco and he smiled. "Made a new friend already, Harry? What's yer name then?"

"Draco-" the blonde boy began.

"He was telling me all about Quidditch and racing brooms!" Harry interrupted, discreetly elbowing Draco in the ribs. _"Weren't_ you, Draco?"

"Oh, yes," Draco said, catching on quickly. "We were just going over the basic rules. Harry's been asking all sorts of questions about it, especially about Chasers. Personally, I'd rather be a Seeker but being a Chaser wouldn't be so bad either. They can make or break a good game."

Harry nodded, pretending he knew what the other boy was talking about. "I'd really like to give it a try, Hagrid. Quidditch sounds brilliant!"

Hagrid's eyes started to water a little as his smile grew even broader. "I'll bet yer just like yer dad, Harry. A right natural flier he was..."

"Like a Snidget," Luna added brightly, "All zipping and darting every which way!"

"Snidget?" Harry echoed, curiously.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed, seeming a little bit put out. "We have got to get you _Quidditch Through the Ages_."

"Aw, give 'im time there... Hogwarts will make a proper Quidditch player out of 'im in no time," Hagrid chuckled and then rubbed his chin a moment, as though trying to recall something. "We got yer robes already... and stopped at Gringotts..."

"Feathers and wings," Luna supplied, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Pages and things... Swish and flick and make all well!"

Hagrid blinked in surprise and scratched his head. "Well, don't tha' beat all..." he murmured and turned to them. "Come on then, Harry. I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"You don't have to-" Harry started, certain that he had turned red from head to toe.

"It's your birthday?" Draco asked.

"Lucky Lightning is a lion!" Luna giggled. "Cor Leonis – no, that was a Black, poor thing. Smarter than they gave him credit for... he came back to me in the end, you know. But that was before you became what you are, Thunder Child. Of course, you were always a lion and a unicorn... holly, too..."

Harry gave her an odd look and wondered what on earth she was talking about.

"Ah, Harry," Hagrid said, seeming more than a bit uncomfortable about something. "Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal."

"Ooh! Me too!" crowed Luna. "Please, Hagrid? Can I?"

Hagrid smiled uncertainly. "I dunno, Miss Rouge... I was gonna get Harry an owl... They're dead useful, y'know, carry yer post an' everything."

"One from you an' one from me," the madwoman wheedled. "Then it'd be all squares."

Harry sighed and looked up at Hagrid. "It's okay. I don't mind."

With that, Hagrid's broad smile returned and he gently gave the poor woman a pat on the head with his massive hand. "I suppose it's all right then, since Harry says so. What do yeh want teh get 'im?"

"I've got a newsie in mind," Luna said with a rather mischievous gleam in her eyes. "But I'm not all squares yet."

Draco looked from her to Hagrid and then piped up, "How about the Magical Menagerie? If you're not sure yet, I mean."

"Maybe a nice white ferret for you," the woman said, staring down her nose at the blonde boy. "Or are you more black than white?"

Draco gulped and took a step away from her. There was something quite unsettling about the way she was staring at the blonde boy.

"To the Menagerie then!" Luna announced cheerfully, clapping her hands together.

* * *

Narcissa found her husband in Flourish and Blotts, impatiently standing in the rather long queue of parents and students that wrapped around the store. And, much to her amusement, he was trying desperately not to notice the overly conspicuous muggles with an armload of books and their excited daughter standing in front of him. So, smothering the impulse to laugh with a silky smile, she moved to join her husband, who looked quite relieved to see her. 

"Lucius," she said by way of greeting and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. "How long have you been in line?"

"Far too long," he replied, sulkily. "I'm certain that half the bloody population of Hogwarts decided to get their books today."

Narcissa nodded, not exactly surprised. It was all about timing on these sorts of things. Five minutes too early or five minutes too late and you could find yourself stuck in a queue like this one. But for what she intended to do, it was perfect: her husband was off his guard and couldn't weasel his way out of the conversation without making a spectacle of himself.

"I did manage to get a bit of interesting news from Severus before I came in," Lucius said, smirking. "It seems that Flamel is in town – business with Dumbledore of some sort. Severus apparently has been killing himself trying to meet with the man."

She smiled at the thought. "I'm not surprised."

"Frankly, neither am I," her husband commented dryly. "But it is _odd_ that old Flamel would just pop in after all this time, don't you agree?"

"He's probably found another use for dragon's blood," Narcissa remarked and suppressed the desire to roll her eyes. "Speaking of _interesting_ things, you will never believe who your son introduced me to."

Lucius arched a single eyebrow in curiosity.

She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear.

Almost immediately, her husband stiffened and went white – quite amazing considering how pale he was already. "Have you both lost your minds?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Hardly," Narcissa answered coolly. "He's a sweet boy, if a little naïve. He and Draco will probably make fast friends."

"Associating with that 'sweet boy' is a risk I'd rather not take!" Lucius quietly hissed. "Do you know what would happen to us if _he_ came back and learned of this?"

"Nothing, if we play our hands right," she countered with a sly smile. "From what I've gathered, his guardians haven't told him anything at all. He was practically over the moon when I told him I knew his mother – he didn't even know her name, Lucius! If I'd told him he had to wrestle a troll before getting sorted, he would have believed me without a second thought. And I can only imagine what Dumbledore will tell him when he gets to Hogwarts..."

Her husband's eyes narrowed slightly as he drew his lips into a grimace. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Narcissa. I am not a fool."

"And neither am I," she bit back and put on her most troubled expression. "But I am worried about that boy, Lucius. He didn't seem happy when I asked him where his guardians were."

"I don't see any reason for you to worry about him," he said coldly as the queue advanced a little. "So, he's unhappy! The brat probably just had a row with them. Children _do_ that."

"It wasn't just that. It was several things... the state of his clothes... the way he held himself," she said, slipping her hand into his. Narcissa then leaned against him and whispered, "Lucius, he told me that until very recently he was sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. These muggles are his blood and they treat him like a house elf because of his magic... It's not right."

She felt her husband stiffen, clasping her hand tightly. Blood politics was one thing, but there was one ancient thing that most witches and wizards agreed on: you protected your own kind above all, even blood status. Woe betide any muggle that would dare to mistreat a child of magic, for vengeance would descend on swift wings to claim the offender. She knew in particular that her husband felt very strongly about the topic – _very_ strongly. His reply was flat and soft: "If this is true, you know we could never take him."

"I know," she said. "But at the very least we can do something about it. If that thing we've talked about does happen and the child _is_ as strong as we all suspect, it would be far wiser to have him as an ally than an enemy."

Lucius let out a very soft sigh and closed his eyes. "And how do you propose that we explain the boy to the others – to _him?_"

_"He_ has always been eager to one-up the old man," Narcissa pointed out. "Stealing away the old man's greatest weapon and turning it into a tool against him would probably make _him_ pleased."

Her husband rolled his eyes. "Don't be so certain. There is still the prophecy to contend with."

"Prophecies are malleable," she replied, matter-of-factly. "Firstly, a prophecy only accounts for the outcome of events that feed into a singular causality, not all the possible paths there are. Secondly, whomever records it can twist it how they like. Thirdly, anyone attempting to analyze it will influence how it is interpreted. And, most importantly, a prophecy only comes true if you make it true."

"Yet, _he_ has already made it come true," Lucius countered, _sotto voce_.

Narcissa sighed, rolling her eyes. "Would you believe that there was a girl in Ravenclaw house that was certain there was already a prophecy that applied to _him_ – one that would disagree with the one Severus overheard?"

"Are you certain of that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"We'll never know, will we?" she said quietly. "_He_ put her into the Spell Damage ward in St. Mungo's."

Lucius didn't respond to that, his grey eyes seemingly a thousand miles away, and Narcissa smiled in quiet satisfaction. The queue advanced a little further and the bushy haired muggleborn in front of them began to plead with her parents to let her buy another book.

* * *

The Magical Menagerie was a dim circus of noise and activity, cages covering every conceivable inch of the walls. There were all sorts of animals and birds inside, including some very odd humming custard-coloured balls of fur, jewel-encrusted turtles and huge purple toads. Cats in every colour wandered about the store and Harry was almost certain that the big grumpy-looking orange one was staring at him from its perch on the counter. Still, it was a small building and quite cramped, so Hagrid had opted to wait outside while they shopped and briefly suggested the sorts of animals that students are allowed to bring to Hogwarts. 

...Not that Loony Luna seemed to have paid the slightest bit of attention. She had almost immediately bypassed Hagrid and disappeared into the dim store before he could get a word out edgewise. Currently, she was preoccupied with the snake cages, humming a childlike tune and rocking back and forth on her heels.

Draco, on the other hand, was making faces at some ferrets in a suspiciously quiet cage. The ferrets all seemed to be chattering at the blonde boy, but no sound escaped that particular cage. Harry supposed it must be enchanted in some way and, idly, he wondered why. One of the ferrets then made a very rude gesture, causing Draco to laugh, and Harry decided he'd rather not ask why the cage was enchanted.

He wandered back towards Luna, letting his eyes drift over the dancing rats and poisonous slugs as he walked. He wasn't sure why this woman, who was obviously out of her mind, seemed so familiar to him before, but he supposed that if his mother had known her like Hagrid said, then he must have seen a picture of her at one point or another and just couldn't remember it on account that it was so far back. Then again, he supposed she could just have one of those faces.

"I like this one," Luna said, suddenly, and opened up the cage.

The witch behind the counter looked like she'd swallowed a toad. "Miss, you can't do that! Those snakes are dangerous!"

"Aww, they won't hurt me," the madwoman scoffed and reached into the cage. Very quietly, she cooed, "Isn't that right, old friends? Come along then and say hello..."

Slowly, one of the larger snakes uncoiled and brushed itself along the woman's fingers. Another followed it, and then another, until all the snakes had done so.

"That's amazing!" Draco said in awe, having hurried over when he'd noticed what Luna was doing.

"There is a favour owed from old times," the madwoman said softly to the snakes. "Who among you will take the task?"

A smaller white and yellow patterned snake raised its head and nodded. "I, Carlosss, sssshall."

"Then it is so," Luna smiled and gathered the small snake into her hands. She straightened up and shut the cage with one hand while the snake coiled around the other. Then, she turned to Harry, her smile broadening, and held the small snake out to him. "Happy Birthday!"

"Um, thank you," Harry replied, hesitantly taking the snake. He was almost certain students weren't allowed to bring snakes to Hogwarts. Maybe they'd make allowances if it was a gift... He sighed and looked down at the snake. "Carlos, right?"

"Yesss," the white snake hissed, coiling around his wrist in content.

Draco was staring wide-eyed at both of them. Luna stared at the blonde boy curiously, waved her hand in front of his face, and after getting no response, she shrugged and skipped up to the counter to pay for the snake.

"Um, are you okay, Draco?" Harry asked, seriously beginning to get unnerved by the odd look the blonde boy was giving him.

"You're a parseltongue," Draco whispered. "And so is that Luna woman."

Harry blinked in confusion. "A what?"

"You talk to snakes," the blonde boy explained quietly.

"Oh... Yeah, I know. I set a boa constrictor on my cousin at the zoo a few weeks ago."

"Keep your voice down!" Draco hissed, "This isn't the sort of thing you want other people to know about you."

"Why not?" asked Harry. "Can't all wizards do it?"

Draco sighed in frustration and pinched his nose. "Look, I know you've been out of the loop, so to speak, so I'll try to keep it simple. It's a really rare gift – you have no _idea_ how rare! It probably means you're descended from Slytherin or something..."

"Old Sal wasn't the only serpent tongue, you silly little dragon. There used to be lots, but many are gone now," Luna said, returning from the counter. She had small rectangular box stuffed under her arm and a cage with a squawking raven in it. She handed the box to Harry; it was a box of snake supplies that would expand when opened.

Harry looked up from the box cover and attempted to stifle a laugh as the madwoman began pinching the blonde boy's cheeks.

"Gerroff me!" Draco managed, looking thoroughly annoyed.

Figuring that it would be best all around if this stopped before it attracted any attention, Harry put on his most innocent smile. "We've got to go. Hagrid's waiting for us."

"Oh, phooey," said Luna, pouting a little as she released Draco. She then thrust the cage with the raven inside into the blonde boy's arms. "A writing desk for you, black as India ink and clever as Odin. Watch your tongue and wisdom will find you."

Draco, utterly bewildered, managed a simple 'thanks' and was more than happy to leave the shop as quickly as possible.

"And, Harry..." Luna called out, right as he was leaving. "I'll be seeing you!"

He paused on the threshold and looked back at her.

Luna had moved back to the counter and was starting to play with the grumpy-looking orange cat.

Harry left then to join the others waiting outside and a small part of him wondered if the woman was really as crazy as everyone thought she was.

If he had bothered to linger a moment more, he might have seen her watching him as she idly scratched the purring cat behind his ears. Harry might, if he had stayed, seen her smile knowingly and say, "Mad as a mongoose, eh, Crookshanks?"

* * *

"I need a painkilling draught," Lucius groused as he and his wife finally left Flourish and Blotts; he'd developed a headache by the time the muggles in front of them had finally gotten to the counter. He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing, and added, "Honestly, how many books can that one little girl possibly read in one month's time?" 

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You obviously never had any Ravenclaws as friends, did you? That's considered light reading."

"It's a pity about her parentage, though," he commented. "Had it been otherwise, I might have been impressed. No breeding in that one... or manners, for that matter – and did you see those teeth?"

Obviously, her husband was feeling better than he gave himself credit for, Narcissa mused. Give him a few more minutes in the fresh air and he'd be right back to his usual self. "Yes, dear," she supplied and started steering him towards Ollivanders.

"Dreadful little child," Lucius continued, hardly even noticing that his wife was leading him. "But very smart... She'd be a wonderful ally if she wasn't a muggle. It's a terrible waste."

"What a shame," Narcissa said, not really caring about the subject of his rant either way. She was a woman with a mission and that left no room for silly little inconveniences like blood politics. And if her husband decided he wasn't going to play nice... Well, she could always remind him about what happened to her father when he angered her mother. Nasty business, that...

"By the way, dear, where's Draco?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, I sent him to the Magical Menagerie with Harry," she replied, absently. "They'll meet us at Ollivanders."

He stiffened. "You let him go off by himself with _that_ boy, of all people?"

"Don't be silly," Narcissa scoffed. "They're not alone. Hagrid's looking after Harry today, in place of his insipid muggle guardians."

Lucius's left eye began to twitch with anger. "You left them with _Hagrid?"_

"You know as well as I do that no one in their right mind would try to hurt a child put in Hagrid's care," she countered, her patience beginning to wear thin. "He's a splendid criminal deterrent."

"That's not the point, Narcissa..."

"Oh, look! There's Ollivanders! They're probably already waiting for us."

"You're not even listening to me!"

"Damn right, I'm not."

"Narcissa...!"

"You wouldn't want to make me mad, would you, dear?" she asked, giving him a sickly sweet smile.

Lucius, wisely, decided to drop the subject.

"I didn't think so," Narcissa said, thoroughly pleased, and herded her husband into the musty wand shop. She instantly spotted Hagrid, standing patiently off to the side and holding a cage with a slumbering snowy owl inside. Craning her head a little, she could see Draco staring at some wands in boredom; he too held a cage, though a raven was perched within.

"...Terrible but great," Ollivander was saying to Harry. "That will be seven Galleons, please."

The black haired boy shivered and then quickly paid the old man for his wand.

"There you are, boys!" Narcissa piped up, smiling broadly as they turned to look at her.

Ollivander clucked his tongue at her and she pointedly ignored him.

"What is _that_?" Lucius asked, pointing at the cage his son was holding.

Draco shrugged. "A gift."

"That was Miss Rouge's doing," Hagrid explained. "Seems she got it in her head teh give him a present and, well, y'know... Once she gets it in her head teh do something, she just goes and does it."

Narcissa blinked in surprise. "Rouge? As in Luna, the Ravenclaw? I thought she was still in St. Mungo's...?"

"Thought so, too," Hagrid said, looking a bit bewildered. "Dunno why, but she's out and about as it were."

Lucius narrowed his eyes at the raven and his lip curled into a slight sneer. "Obviously, there was some sort of mistake."

"Not likely," Ollivander piped up, drawing everyone's attention. "Now, perhaps young Malfoy might like his wand?"

Everyone just stared at the old man for a moment and then a flutter of activity occurred as Narcissa deposited Draco's currently squawking gift into her annoyed husband's arms and dragged Draco to the counter to get his wand before either he or his father could utter a single word. Harry and Hagrid merely watched, with varying degrees of mixed amusement and surprise.

It wasn't terribly long before a wand decided Draco was its owner and Ollivander decided that it was high time to creep out yet another child with vague creepy facts about their wand. "I've always liked this particular combination – quite lively... Your uncle had a very similar wand, but it's curious that you should have one so similar. Yes, quite curious... I suggest you try to keep clear of trouble in the future."

Draco gave the old man a look that suggested he believed Ollivander to be full of tripe, not even noticing for a second that all three adults in the room had stiffened at the old man's words. Harry, however, had seemed to notice, but didn't look like he was about to ask any questions yet.

"That will be seven Galleons," old Ollivander said, finally.

Narcissa paid him quickly and herded her son away from the counter. The old man simply disappeared into the back of the shop, as quiet as a church mouse.

"Well, Harry and I best be on our way," Hagrid said finally. "We've still got some supplies left... Miss Rouge, err, forced us teh take a bit of a detour. And I'm supposed teh get Harry back home before dinner."

Harry's face fell slightly.

"Maybe we can meet again before school starts," Draco suggested. "I could show you how to play Quidditch."

Lucius looked like he might spontaneously combust – not that either boy noticed.

"Really?" said Harry, practically lighting up. His face fell again. "I don't know... My aunt and uncle probably won't let me..."

The danger of spontaneous incendiary death rapidly seemed to be leaving the elder Malfoy.

"Nonsense," Narcissa said, dimly aware that she had caused her husband's blood pressure to instantly skyrocket again. "I have no intention of letting you return to their care."

Harry's eyes widened considerably and it was Hagrid's turn to look upset. "Now, just a minute... I can't let yeh do that –"

"I'll take it to Dumbledore if I have to, but he's coming home with us," Narcissa insisted. "He's not staying with those horrid muggles for another minute."

Hagrid was momentarily torn between agreeing with her opinion on the Dursleys and the irreconcilable fact that he knew letting Harry anywhere near the Malfoy residence was quite probably not going to be conducive to Harry living a long life. "Yer going teh have teh talk teh Professor Dumbledore 'bout that. He trusted me teh keep an eye on Harry here and get 'im back safely."

Lucius was also starting to protest. "Hagrid's right..."

_"Darling,"_ Narcissa hissed, drawing out the word as she gave her husband a glare that promised pain and soon if he didn't change his mind immediately.

Seeing the feral glint in his wife's eyes, Lucius – once again – chose wisely: "That is to say, we will be discussing this with Dumbledore shortly. Come along, Draco."

The blonde boy smiled and shook Harry's hand. "I'll be seeing you, then – probably sooner than later, if mum's got anything to say about it... And then we'll talk some more about Quidditch."

"It's a promise," said Harry and absently rubbed his forehead, as though it had itched.

Narcissa blinked. Had it been her imagination or had she just seen the boy's scar glow for a second?

Harry now stared up at her and smiled. The scar was just that: a scar, unremarkable in any way except for its distinct lightning bolt shape. "It was nice meeting all of you. I had a lot of fun today."

"Let's go, Harry," Hagrid said then. "We best be getting yeh home."

"Ok," the black-haired boy sighed and waved once more to them before finally being ushered outside by the giant of a man.

Lucius handed the cage to back to a somewhat distracted Draco and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about a headache. Finally, he let out a deep breath and said, "I really do hope you know what you've gotten us into, dear."

"I know what I'm doing," Narcissa countered as Draco wandered closer to her.

The elder Malfoy nodded in resignation and headed for the door.

"Mum?" Draco asked, looking up at his mother.

Narcissa looked at him curiously. "Yes, dear?"

"Harry's scar flashed just then, didn't it?" he said quietly. "What's that mean?"

The woman was quiet a moment, her eyes drifting to the window. "I don't know, Draco. I don't know."

* * *

AN:After I lost that disc, this was just so HARD to write. I kept thinking I was going to mess up from what I'd done in the original without it there anymore. Considering this is about 10 and half pages in Word, compared to what I remember ofthe original 4... well... Now, I can finally say I'm satisfied with it. This chappie's just loaded with little Easter eggs for the HP nut. See if you can find all of them! In other notes, when Lucius and Narcissa are referring to 'him' in italics, they're referring to Voldemort. And as for Narcissa's seeming ability to forget blood allegiances when it suits her interests (as well as why Lucius doesn't want her mad and that freaky moment where I swear she's channeling Chocolat Misu from Sorcerer Hunters), it'll be explained later on. As to which Uncle Ollivander refers to, that's _my_ little secret for now. Reviews and IMs are very much welcome. 

Thank you **everyone** for being so patient!


	4. Unofficial Inquiry

Slightly Skewed

By TwinEnigma

Chapter 3: Unofficial Inquiry

Light filtered through high windows into a large, spacious domed room and refracted off the hundreds of thousands of moving crystalline structures in the centre of the room. Arcing support structures and countless cables wound around each other, spreading up through a large circular depression in the floor like the gnarled branches of a great tree. The room itself was comprised of several concentric circular tiers, each containing small half-moon shaped terminals, and at each terminal, there were three women, each seemingly weaving on oddly-shaped golden looms.

A young woman sat in an isolated floating chair the overlooked the whole room, absently flipping through a Japanese language girl's magazine. She had black hair in an unusual layered cut, the topmost layer stopping at her chin with the rest gathering into a long streamer of hair at the back, and her face bore three dark-blue diamond-shaped markings, one in the centre of her forehead and one on each cheekbone. She wore a two-pieced black bikini-like affair and a pretty leather harness that circled around her shoulders before trailing down the back in two long tails.

A small screen appeared in the air in front of the black-haired woman, revealing the face of a woman with curly black hair and blue droplet-shaped cheek markings. "Ma'am, we're getting a request for system force on a class four contract," the woman on the screen reported.

"Class four?" the woman replied, looking up from her magazine curiously. "That's odd. A class four oath contract shouldn't need system force to execute. Let me have a look at it, Ere."

The curly-haired woman, Ere, nodded and looked down as she expertly guided a pair of golden shuttles across her loom. "Transferring to your station now."

A second screen appeared next to the first, displaying the request. She tapped a key on the arm of the chair and another screen appeared, displaying information in runes and a picture of a young boy with a crescent marking on his forehead and red thunderbolt-shaped markings on his cheeks. "White Wings, huh? Well, well, what could be hindering you from keeping a simple oath?" the woman commented, narrowing her brown eyes at the picture. "Access contract specifications."

The screen flashed red and displayed new message in red runes.

"Access denied?" the woman repeated, confused. She tapped a few more keys on the arm of the chair. "Contract details: classified _Special Access_... Wait, that can't be right..."

"I got the same message, ma'am," Ere supplied from her screen. "What are we supposed to do?"

Her superior started to respond when a dusky-skinned man, clad in simple white clothes, reached in front of her face and entered a sequence on the keypad. The message vanished and the first screen turned green, indicating that the use of system force had been approved.

"Sir?" she asked, looking up at the white-clad man.

The man smiled easily, little laugh lines tugging at the corners of his dark eyes and gave her a gentle pat on the head. He then turned away, his attention drawn to other things – namely the crystalline structures moving around the centre of the room.

"You need not be concerned, Goddess First Class Peorth," drawled a familiar masculine voice. It belonged to a well-dressed angel who possessed the appearance of a man in his mid-thirties, short spiky black hair and a persistently sarcastic attitude. "It's all been taken care of."

"Well then, I suppose its time for us to get back to work, Metatron," she replied, picking up her magazine and smiling slyly. "Better get going before the Boss skives off for another round of Skee-Ball."

"It never ends!" muttered the angel as he hurried off after the retreating form of the white-clad chief deity.

* * *

Severus Snape, current Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had very little in the way of visitors and visited others outside of the school even less. During the summer holidays, he was nigh unreachable to all save a handful of individuals, most of whom would not dare tread down the weary-looking cobblestones of Spinner's End if their very lives depended on it. And he preferred it this way, enjoying the all-to-brief respite from all things school-related in blessed, Weasley twin-free silence. 

Consequently, when his fireplace sputtered to life and Lucius Malfoy's head appeared in the flames, Severus knew his summer holidays were about to come to a swift and abrupt end. His mood instantly soured and he shot the offending image his most poisonous glare. Most people meeting this glare retreated and found excuses to call back at a later time.

Lucius, unfortunately, was completely unfazed by the glare. Life with Narcissa had inured the older man to most forms of nonverbal threat, much to the displeasure of almost everyone who had dealings with the current Malfoy patriarch. "Ah, there you are, Severus," he began, hardly seeming to notice that he hadn't even bothered with the usual polite social pretences. "I was wondering if I might have a word with you. It is a matter of utmost urgency."

At that, the Potions Master merely quirked an eyebrow and closed the alchemy text he'd been reading. "I see. What is it, then?"

Lucius's eye twitched. "It is sensitive issue and I'd rather not discuss it through the grate. May I step through?"

Curiosity piqued, Severus nodded and took a moment to mark his place in the book with an emerald-coloured velvet ribbon as the fire turned green and the older man entered. Sensitive issues regarding his associates – well, those that had managed to avoid Azkaban at any rate – had become something of a rarity in the past several years. Most of them had disposed of or concealed all incriminating and dodgy items in their possession several years ago and he doubted Malfoy was stupid enough to want to reminisce about their shared stint in the dark lord's service.

"You really should get that filthy grate cleaned," Lucius commented with a sniff and brushed some soot off his normally immaculate cloak.

"I'm a busy man, not a house elf," Severus responded, shooting him another poisonous glare as he put the book down. "Now, what could be so troubling that you couldn't just tell me through the grate?"

The older man visibly winced, gripping his walking cane more tightly. "What do you know about the children entering Hogwarts this year, Severus?"

"I'm sorry, I don't follow you," the Potions Master replied, mildly confused.

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Humour me for a moment and tell me what you know about the students that will be entering this year."

The professor leaned back in his chair and frowned slightly before replying, "There are a number of children entering that belong to families of our former acquaintances, but I'm sure you are already aware of that. There are a few muggleborns, of course, and then there are the 'survivors,' like Longbottom and Bones."

"You forgot one: the Potter child," Lucius said quietly, with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh, yes... How could I have forgotten? Our _celebrity_," Severus sneered in disdain. Hatred bubbled up from old memories at the mere mention of that _name_ and it took considerable effort to quash that rage back down, where it would not interfere with business. He could not afford to let his judgement be clouded, not now.

The Malfoy patriarch hadn't seemed to notice – or, if he did, he was doing a fine job of feigning ignorance – and was merely nodding absently. Come to think of it, the man was acting a little strangely and strange behaviour in a man like Lucius Malfoy only meant something potentially troublesome was afoot.

"This sensitive issue of yours – it has something to do with a student, doesn't it?" the Potions Master concluded, leaning forward in his chair. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he tried to skim the surface of the older man's thoughts, but the effort yielded nothing.

Lucius raised his eyes and nodded in the affirmative. "You must understand, Severus, that normally I would directly speak to Dumbledore and the board about this. However, the circumstances are..." He paused then, searching for the most appropriate word, and then continued, "...most irregular and I believe I would encounter considerable difficulty in attempting to convince them."

Warning bells were going off somewhere in the back of Severus's head as he prepared himself for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

"My son encountered a boy today, one of his prospective classmates," the older man said, staring fixedly at a point on the floor and gripping his walking cane as if it were a lifeline. "And, apparently, in their discussion the subject of this boy's relatives came up and it was mentioned that the boy had been sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. Draco immediately brought this to Narcissa's attention and she has demanded that I act."

"What is this mystery boy's name?" the professor asked. Oh, there was no doubt about it now: _something_ about this whole business wasn't going to be to his liking.

Lucius' shoulders dropped a fraction and, with a particularly heavy sigh, he mumbled a name, just loud enough for the tetchy Potions Master to hear.

There was a moment of silence as the name - _that **hated** name_ - sunk into his brain and combined with the rest of their conversation. Then, Severus drew back into his chair and sneered, derision saturating his wits. "And you believed the brat? I thought you were more intelligent than _that_, Lucius. He's probably just looking for more attention, the abhorrent little troglodyte."

"I wish that were the case, Severus, but I've _seen_ the boy and I'd have to agree with my wife – he looks like he's been living little better than a house elf," the Malfoy patriarch said, looking more than a little troubled. "In all honesty, I'd rather not have anything to do with the boy or his situation. However, my wife _insists_ that I do something about it."

Translation: Narcissa used his fear of the infamous temper of the female members of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black to con her husband into doing something that might potentially be hazardous to a continued existence – especially if their mutual former Master decided to reappear at some point in the future. Oh yes, Severus was very familiar with what the word 'insists' meant in the language of women from the House of Black. It loosely translated to "do as I say or I'll make the Cruciatus look pleasant in comparison" and rendered whatever matter it was invoked upon entirely non-negotiable.

"If that is the case, then why come to me at all?" Severus asked, narrowing his eyes at the elder man.

Lucius tightened his grip on the cane again and answered, "I fear that if I go to investigate and discover proof supporting his claim, I might do something... regrettable." He paused, lowering his eyes again, and then added, "You know all too well how far my wrath can go."

The professor knew exactly what incident he was referring to, as a part of his mind refused to let the memory of that day die. In the back of his mind, he heard his father's screams of pain, saw the man's filthy blood spatter across the walls and mar the falsely-happy photo from his childhood. Malfoy's voice barked the most violent curses in the western hemisphere with relentless, feral abandon, and Severus had merely stood by, watching in silent satisfaction as the blonde man unleashed his rage. He distinctly recalled how clever he'd felt by setting the vicious Malfoy loose on his father and how he smiled at the look on his father's face when he begged for his son's help and realized there would be none. Oh yes, he had avenged himself and the memory of his mother, without ever having to dirty his own hands – that, he left to Malfoy, who had practically resembled a blood-soaked demon by the time he'd finally satisfied his anger.

And it had been the look, the half-crazed gleam in the blonde man's eyes as he wiped the blood of Tobias Snape off his face and asked calmly for a handkerchief that made him realize that Malfoy hadn't really minded torturing and killing the muggle at all. To the pureblooded man, it was no more than a simple matter of serving long-overdue justice, each torture repaid in kind, and he would not hesitate to repeat the offence if a similar situation were to present itself once more. It was justice, yes, but in a barbaric extreme that even now still left a bitter taste in Severus's mouth. Far worse, in his opinion, was the certain knowledge that the blonde man would have no qualms about killing the Potter brat's muggle relatives in front of the boy if they had done what was claimed.

"You still owe me, you know, for helping you with your father," Lucius said quite plainly. "And it would be for the best, all around, if my involvement in this matter was kept to a minimum."

The Potions Master scowled: his hands were tied, it seemed, for the claim had to be looked into as a matter of protocol and it would be an act of madness to let Malfoy investigate this in any capacity. After all, there was still the lingering possibility that their mutual former acquaintance might not be as dead as rumoured and the security of the brat _had_ to be assured at all costs just in case aforementioned former acquaintance hadn't really snuffed it.

Severus took a moment to mentally curse Trelawney and that stupid bloody prophecy that was at the heart of this whole mess and his own misfortune for overhearing it, before finally raising his head and heaving an annoyed sigh. "Very well... I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Harry was now once again back at 4 Privet Drive, where things had more or less returned to business as usual. By the time Hagrid had dropped him off at the door with his ticket for the Hogwarts Express and very brief instructions regarding the departure date, the Dursleys had been home long enough to settle right back into a state of feigned ignorance. They left him alone for the most part and Harry took the opportunity to clean up the smallest bedroom a bit and get to know the two animals he'd been given, while his relatives attempted to sort out the matter of Dudley's tail. The snake, Carlos, had a distinct wry sense of humour and was somewhat lazy, while the snowy owl – which Harry named Hedwig – was an affectionate and rather prim-seeming creature; she would ruffle her feathers and give a short hoot every time Carlos made snarky statements. All in all, Harry thought both animals to be fascinating and constantly wondered if all creatures in the wizarding world were anything quite like them. 

Oh, Harry still had lots of questions about magic and the world of magic in general, but he supposed he'd just have to wait until he got to Hogwarts to get the answers he wanted. So, the black-haired boy busied himself with his chores and wondered about everything he'd already learned about this other world, particularly Quidditch. Draco seemed to really be keen on it and even Hagrid had lit up when Harry said he'd like to give it a try.

The doorbell rang, jarring Harry out of his thoughts. Putting down the pot he'd been scrubbing out, Harry quickly pulled his hands out of the rubber gloves and grabbed a towel. The Dursleys had left for the doctor's office again, this time to go over the details of potential surgery to remove the pig's tail; however, they hadn't mentioned anything about any potential visitors, so naturally Harry was a little apprehensive about answering the door. Still, it might be something important, like a package, and he wasn't too keen on being yelled at for not answering the door when he should have.

With a sigh, Harry walked up the door and, after making sure the chain was firmly in place, he opened it a crack. "Can I help you?"

A tall, sallow-skinned man in a plain dark-coloured suit stood on the stoop, his hand paused a hair's breadth from the doorbell. The man's cold, dark eyes narrowed at him and Harry had the fleeting sensation of being picked apart and thoroughly analyzed. "You are Harry Potter, correct?"

"How-?" the boy started, confused.

"Good. I am Professor Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts," the man said sharply, cutting him off. "May I come in?"

Harry glared at the man, instantly wary. "Prove it."

The professor stared at him, a single eyebrow shooting up in surprise. It seemed he hadn't expected that.

"If you're from Hogwarts, you can do magic," the boy reasoned.

The man scowled, but drew a wand from a pocket inside his suit coat and aimed it at the chain holding the door shut. _"Evanesco."_

Instantly, the chain glowed white and disappeared, causing the door to slip open a faction. Harry leapt backwards as if he'd been scalded, mentally berating himself for being so stupid and not realizing that potential deranged criminals might also be able to use magic. However, the door remained as it was and the man made no move to enter, merely replacing the wand in his jacket with a look of mild amusement.

"Foolish boy," the man scoffed. "I am not some 'deranged criminal' that goes around preying on children when their guardians are away. I assure you _that_ would not go over well with Headmaster Dumbledore. He's not in the habit of hiring lunatics and murderers, as far as I'm aware. Now, may I come in?"

Harry blinked in surprise at the dismissal. This Professor Snape person must have had this sort of reaction from other kids like him before. "Um, yeah... sure..." he managed finally, opening the door. "If you wanted to talk to my aunt and uncle, it might be a while before they get back. They had to take my cousin to the doctor."

"I see," the professor said, smirking slightly as he entered and Harry couldn't help but get the definite impression that the strange wizard knew about the pig tail Dudley had gained, courtesy of a very annoyed groundskeeper. The man then added, "I actually came to speak to you, Potter, about your guardians."

The boy stiffened momentarily and closed the door. He hadn't really expected that anything would come of telling Draco and his mother about his situation and he didn't really want to get his aunt and uncle in trouble. It wasn't like they hit him or anything bad like that. In fact, they mostly tried to pretend he didn't exist, except for when there were chores to be done or at those rare occasions when something odd happened and then he was usually just locked up in the cupboard for a few days, only leaving for meals, chores and to use the toilet. "They're okay," he answered quietly, lowering his eyes as he turned around.

"I know you're lying, Potter. The Malfoys told me everything you told them about your situation," Professor Snape said slowly, as he examined some of the photographs on the wall, "Including your previous sleeping arrangements. Am I correct in assuming that the cupboard in question is behind that door?"

Harry nodded, knowing what door the professor was indicating without even having to look. Oddly enough, he was a bit grateful that Uncle Vernon had locked the majority of his Hogwarts supplies in the cupboard, because that meant that the professor couldn't open the door and see how small that space really was.

"I see," the man murmured, peering briefly through the grate on the cupboard door, and then looked back at him. "And you're sleeping in a bedroom upstairs now, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, shifting on his feet. These questions were making him a bit uncomfortable. He may not have liked his relatives overly much, but he was getting a growing sensation that they might get in a lot of trouble and he didn't like that feeling very much at all. Without meaning to, he managed to quietly ask, "Professor?"

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Yes, Potter?"

"They won't get in trouble, will they?" the boy asked, looking away. "I mean, I may not like them and they might not like me overmuch, but they're the only family I've ever known."

The professor raised an eyebrow and blithely stated, "Yes, it is very likely that they will be held accountable. There are strict laws governing..."

Harry paled, the rest of the words the professor was saying going completely unheard. Fear welled up with him as the chill knowledge that he _knew_ that the Dursleys would be punished and terrible choking certainty that it would be bad, _extremely bad._ And in that instant, the world went white.

* * *

"...There are strict laws governing the ethical treatment of minors in this country and the wizarding world has its own variants," Severus said, his eyes once again fixing on the cupboard door and the general size of the stairs. Definitely not a very large space, he concluded and squelched the miniscule trace of sympathy that was trying to form by reminding himself that he was dealing with the progeny of his hated nemesis. Honestly, he should have felt exultant at the fact that universe coldly conjured up this environment of neglect by omission for the Potter brat in repayment for every taunt and humiliation that the brat's father had visited upon him all those years ago. Instead, every second he spent in Four Privet was making his skin crawl as long-suppressed memories threatened to surface, tainting everything he saw with the ghosts of his own youth. 

Severus clenched one hand, digging his fingernails into his palm, the sharp pain grounding him back in the present. Though he had enough evidence and wanted nothing more than to leave this house, he needed to press the boy some more and see what else he could skim off the surface of the boy's mind. "So, yes, I can imagine there might be severe legal repercussions for their actions towards you," he added, returning his gaze to the boy and trailing off as he noticed that the Potter brat had gone extremely pale.

...And, curiously, the boy's scar appeared to be glowing.

"That can't be good," the Potions Master muttered, hesitantly taking a step forward. Maybe he could startle the boy out of it.

The jagged thunderbolt suddenly spun and stretched, transforming into something else as it glowed blindingly brilliant, bathing the world in light.

* * *

Severus blinked, slightly confused. He was sitting in the kitchen of Four Privet Drive, a cup of Darjeeling tea halfway to his mouth. The Potter brat had his back to him and was scouring out a pot at the sink with practiced ease, chattering away about Quidditch. Something was off about this, _very off_, but the Potions Master could not place what exactly was wrong, only that it felt artificial somehow. He raised the teacup to his lips and almost immediately admonished himself when he realized that he had been about to discreetly sniff it for the scent of a potion. What was the matter with him? Potter was a _child_, for heaven's sake! He had absolutely no reason to suspect him of drugging the tea! ...Well, aside from the fact that the brat was the spawn of James Potter, but from everything he'd seen so far, the boy seemed to take after his mother in personality. 

After a few minutes of simple conversation, mainly about how the boy was adjusting to the wizarding world concept and in which the professor couldn't skim anything off the boy's mind, Severus finally concluded that his presence was no longer required there and made ready to leave. Potter then escorted him to the door, politely said goodbye and shut the door, locking it and sliding the chain into place.

_"Prove it."_

The professor winced as a headache suddenly came on. Hadn't he vanished the chain? The headache intensified sharply and he scowled. He was certain he'd vanished it, but couldn't remember restoring it. Something was clearly out of sorts.

Severus walked precisely two streets over, turning on to Wisteria Walk and discreetly walked up to a house with several leonine cats sunning themselves in the windows. Before he could even knock, the door opened and Mrs Figg, an aging member of Dumbledore's maddening slew of contacts, was pulling him inside. Regrettably, she only did so after loudly greeting him as her nephew. He only refrained from hexing the kneazle-loving squib on the basis that it would have broken their cover and he needed her floo to get to Dumbledore's office. Later, he would floo back, politely refuse to see anymore cat pictures, head off to a nearby safe disapparition point and head directly back home to his alchemy texts. Yes, he decided, that was a good plan.

And so, the Potions Master politely declined to have tea and reminisce with Mrs Figg, insisting that he had to speak with Dumbledore directly. She was disappointed, of course, but managed to be assuaged when he agreed to have tea with her before the start of term and immediately showed him to her fireplace. He would regret it later, he was certain, but that was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment he stepped through the green flames to the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore gave him a very curious look when he stepped through.

"I," Severus started, his headache raging like a troll with every word, "I think my memory has been tampered with."

Again, he received a very odd look. "What makes you so certain of that, Severus?"

"I _vanished_ the chain," the Potions Master said matter-of-factly and then the headache exploded against him with the brute force of a cruciatus, propelling him into the merciful bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

It would be several hours before the Potions Master returned to consciousness and Dumbledore waited them out with a disturbing calm. He knew the younger wizard had come to him from Mrs Figg's house and the headmaster had a fair suspicion that he'd come in contact with either Harry Potter or the wards on Four Privet, though which remained to be seen. The question that bothered him was _why_: why would Severus Snape deliberately go to Little Whinging? And what on earth could have prompted him to say what he did when he entered the office? There was some mischief afoot and Dumbledore would get to the bottom of it. 

Snape's return to wakefulness was preceded by a drawn out groan and, finally, the younger wizard sat up.

"How do you feel?" the headmaster asked.

"Like a troll tap-danced across my skull," Snape replied, wincing.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Dumbledore pushed gently.

The Potions Master stared at him blankly a moment. "Something happened? It shouldn't have. It all looked fine."

"What looked fine?" he pressed. Clearly, someone had been mucking about in the boy's head, though to what end and, more importantly, how that was achieved were open to intense speculation.

"Number Four," Snape replied. "I... had gotten a tip that the brat was in trouble, but it turned out to be wrong."

"Severus, why didn't you come to me first?" the headmaster asked.

"I have my reasons," the Potions Master said sullenly and seemed not to want to go any further into it, so he did not push the issue.

"You told me that you thought your memory had been tampered with when you came in. Do you remember that?"

Snape took on a look of extreme confusion. "...I said what?"

"Would you let me have a look?" Dumbledore asked, very carefully. This was tentative ground and he knew that it was asking much of the younger wizard.

The Potions Master shrugged absently and sighed. "I don't know if you'd be able to get anything... my head still aches."

Dumbledore picked up a fleeting image of Darjeeling tea and a complex symbol when Snape raised his head. "Maybe when you're feeling more up to it, then? Go home, Severus and get some rest."

Snape stood slowly, straightening his clothes almost absently. "I had a strange dream," he said, then, looking up.

The image of the strange symbol returned, clearer now: a massive spellcasting circle, alien runes burning in the darkness, shrinking and rewriting something. Weaver's shuttles flickered in the image for a moment and Snape broke eye contact.

Dumbledore sighed and smiled sadly. "I know, Severus, I know."

Snape nodded mutely and, within moments, was gone.

The headmaster gave a weary sigh: he had a feeling this year was going to be anything but boring and absently wondered if he was getting to old for this.

* * *

**AN:** woooooooo, finished at last! Featuring cameos from Oh My Goddess and Dogma. Ere can be seen in the Oh My Goddess movie and in the new TV Series. Severus and Lucius are understandably awkward about broaching the Potter subject, but I had oodles of fun with Snape's "abhorrent little troglodyte" line and having Snape flashback to letting Lucius kill his father for him. Snape and Harry's first meeting is plagued by Snape trying to skim info off Harry's brain with legilimency, but since Harry's practically advertising his thoughts anyway... yeah, it's not that hard to pick up on... at least until Nuitari decides to come out and play editor. Darjeeling tea ironically, is the favourite tea of Belldandy, goddess of the present and Norn. Snape's "That can't be good..." is the 'Paging Captain Obvious' line of this chapter. Anyway, reviews are much appreciated, especially since I'm a bit on the sick side again, and reviewers: check out my background character request page on my website! 


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